Desperate Times
by Karasu Tenka
Summary: When a mysterious terrorist attack leaves Prince Jarvan injured, it falls to Garen to try and uncover who is behind it. What he discovers instead will force him to question everything, and desperate times will call for desperate measures. A League of Legends fanfic, featuring Jarvan IV, Garen, LeBlanc, Zilean, Katarina, and possibly many more.
1. Chapter 1

Desperate Times

a League of Legends fanfic

Prologue: A Dark Night and A Darker Warning

The rain lashed through the night towards the tower windows like arrows, almost as if Demacia herself was under siege. Prince Jarvan Lightshield IV stood in his parlour and gazed out across his beloved city, lost in thought, he had heard disturbing rumours, and the small letter that he held was more disturbing by far. Just the idea that Jericho Swain was worried, actually worried, about rumours of some cult called the "Black Rose" was enough to send a chill up Jarvan's spine.

As he stared into the night, he became aware of the ticking. If he hadn't heard it so many times on the Fields of Justice, he would have mistaken it for his own clock. "A little late for a social visit, isn't it Zilean?" Jarvan turned towards the old man who had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

The old man sat cross-legged in the air, suspended by some form of magic. His extremely long white beard flowed as if blown by some ethereal wind, and the massive Clock that was bound to the man continued to tick away. Zilean gazed at Jarvan through eyes lined with wisdom, seeming to size the young prince up, as if testing to make sure he would pass some test. "My apologies your majesty, however I come with dire warnings."

Jarvan's eyes narrowed, "do tell."

"Demacia is about to face its most dangerous foe yet, not through the league, but from her own heart and soul." Jarvan stared at the old man, Demacia had fought in many wars against all manner of foe and had never once fallen, to be told as fact that something could threaten the City State from within was, surprising, to say the least.

"How can I face this threat my friend, what must I do to protect Demacia?"

"You will be a centre piece in how destiny plays out, however, Your best friend may yet become Demacia's downfall or its savoir, but only you will decide that."

"Garen and I have faced enough challenges to know that neither of us will fail."

At this the old man's gaze grew sad, almost pitiful. "Trust me my boy, I have seen all the possible futures that are to come, and none of them bode well." Zilean floated over to Jarvan and put a wizened hand on the young man's shoulder, "I wish that there was a way to prevent the events that are about to unfold, so that many people won't experience the darkness that is rising, but there isn't."

Jarvan turned away from the old man and looked down over the city, taking in every detail, the towers, the houses, the sound of the rain, and even the ticking of the clock which seemed to be getting faster and louder. "So, Demacia is to be tested. Like she has a thousand times before, she will prevail. Know that I will die long before this city-state falls."

Jarvan could almost feel the kind, sad smile that spread across Zilean's face. "I am glad that your conviction remains so steady, you will need it. My time here grows short young Lightshield, know that I will do what I can to help, even if it doesn't look like it at first. Now prepare yourself; they are coming already." The ticking grew louder until it consumed everything around, then it just vanished, replaced by the steady tick of the old grandfather clock that stood in the far corner, and an echo that quietly persisted.

Jarvan was just trying to make sense of what his guest had said when a new sound appeared; footsteps, several people in armour coming down the hall towards the parlour at a fast pace.

Jarvan turned in time to see the first guard enter the room, as more spilled in the soldier threw a stiff salute, "My lord, one of the mages sensed an intruder in here, we were worried you may have been in danger."

Jarvan motioned for the man to stand down, every nerve in his battle trained body suddenly on edge. Something wasn't right. "Even if there was an intruder in my inner sanctum, did you really need to rouse every guard in the castle to check?" Then it hit him, Jarvan made a point to know every guard in the house by name, he didn't recognise any of these men. "Who are you really?"

The guard suddenly laughed, and said in a woman's voice, "well, well, You are quite quick aren't you your majesty?" The false guard's entire body suddenly shimmered, seeming to melt away from the woman underneath it.

She was tall and skinny, wearing a strange dress that extended down to her shins, but only covered one leg. Draped across her shoulders was an elegant cape, and a resplendent crown rested on her head. Jarvan felt his blood run cold as he suddenly recognised her.

"LeBlanc. What are you doing here?"

The woman smiled sweetly, "Oh you know, setting up the pieces to take back what is rightfully mine. Unfortunately for you, you're in the way of my plans so, you'll just have to go wont you?" As LeBlanc spoke, the men who had entered the room with her began to carefully move towards the Prince with swords drawn.

Time seemed to slow as Jarvan weighed his options. Backing away from the soldiers he looked around for a weapon, as he did Jarvan noticed that the clock seemed to be getting louder again. Remembering Zilean's words, Jarvan suddenly understood the old man's meaning. He turned away from the guards and vaulted over the desk that sat beside one of the windows.

LeBlanc noticed the ticking as well, looking around she cast out her senses magically just in time to feel the spell finish its incubation period.

The explosion rocked the entire castle and was heard and seen over a kilometre away. The blast ripped a sizeable chunk out of the tower and cast debris out into the city and into the river below. As citizens looked up in shock and horror, none of them knew that history was set on a course towards darkness, and Demacia would never be the same again.


	2. Chapter 2

Desperate Times

a League of Legends fanfic

Chapter 1: Betrayed

The sound of the training blade clashed out across the Crownguard armory, echoing the frustration of its wielder. Garen Crownguard was ill at ease. The terrorist attack on Prince Jarvan three months earlier had been a stark wake up call to Demacia. Whatever had caused the explosion, whatever had caused the deaths of almost a dozen guards, and injured the prince, was still unknown.

Garen had asked almost immediately to be allowed to head the investigation into the incident, what had followed was a decent into an endless loop of dead ends. A month later, Garen had asked Caitlyn of Piltover to help secretly, however, even her legendary skills of investigation had yielded precious little. All that she had uncovered was that the explosion had magical origins and a single item; a badge bearing a blooming black rose. Everything else, she claimed, had been removed.

"The scene was cleaned, expertly." He remembered her saying, "someone is trying to cover their tracks. And they're very good at it." Garen had been pondering the information that the sherif of Piltover had brought to light ever since. After Caitlyn had said that she could find no more evidence in the palace tower, Garren had begun asking questions around Demacia about the badge. However, here too he found difficulty; everyone he asked either didn't know what it was, or were scared of it. They never spoke their fears aloud, but Garen could see it in their eyes. Something dark had taken root in Demacia.

With a shake of his head, Garen brought himself back to present, looking down at the training sword in his hand. His arm unconsciously went through the motions of the exercise expertly, the blade clacking against the wooden target dummy with perfect precision and timing. With a swift strike against the dummy's head, Garen realized that he had struck too hard. The dummy split in half, breaking the blade in the process.

Gazing down at the broken weapon, Garen thought back to the last few weeks. Since waking up from his injuries, Prince Jarvan had become cold and seemingly distracted. He no longer held open courts for the people as he had in the past, he had barely spoken to Garren in weeks, and when the old friends did speak, it was now always on matters of state, or the investigation, never just as friends.

This, he realized now, was the source of his frustration; whatever preoccupied Jarvan's mind, the prince was strangely silent about it, even to his oldest and best friend. Something was wrong, and Garen was unable to do anything about it.

Garen walked to the wall, took up a towel, and made his way upstairs, mopping the sweat of his workout from his brow. Upon reaching the main floor of the Crownguard estate, he set the now useless training blade on a table, trusting the household staff to deal with it later. He then wandered towards the dining hall, once again lost in thought.

Then the world went dark, every light in the mansion seeming to snuff out simultaneously. The sound of splintering wood reached Garen's ear, telling him that someone was breaking down the front door. Still wide awake from his practice, Garen weighed his options, his mind immediately clear; he had no weapon nearby except for the broken training blade. He wasn't wearing his armour, and his enemies, whoever they were, probably were. His options were not good.

Moving quickly, Garen ran back towards the armoury stairs. As he reached the door, a servant came running towards him, "My lord! The men attacking are Demacians!"

Garen stopped dead. Demacians, attacking Demacians? This was unheard of, "Tell my sister to keep the rest of the family safe. Whatever is happening here, that is her top priority."

The servant nodded and quickly rand back the way he had come. Garen rushed down the stairs to the armoury. At the base of the stairs, he cursed, realising how dark it was in the underground room. Moving cautiously, Garen found his way to a sword rack and took up one of the blades.

Garen could now hear the attackers making their way purposefully down the armoury stairs as well. "They're here for me." he realised, the thought made him shudder. A faint glimmer of torch-light found its way down the stairwell, heralding the coming soldiers.

Taking up a defensive stance in the middle of the large room, Garen prepared himself for what was to come. The first of the soldiers appeared at the doorway and Garen felt his blood run cold. It was the Dauntless Vanguard, his own unit, men and women he had trained for years were attacking his home.

The soldiers poured into the armoury, taking up position around Garen, cutting off his retreat while making it difficult for him to strike back. Garen stood tall, and spoke with authority, "I know that you all know who I am. You all know that I could defeat any one of you. Now I demand to know what this is about."

One of the soldiers, a sergeant stepped forward, removing his helmet as he did, "General Crownguard, I have been ordered to place you under arrest, Please put your weapon down and submit, or I will be forced to make use of the mages."

Garen simply stared, dumbfounded for a moment, then shook his head, stepped forward, and smashed the sergeant across the head with the flat of his blade. The man dropped like a stone. "I have told all of you many times not to remove your helmet in battle." Garen said as he stooped and drew the fallen man's sword, "Now then, I would like to know what charges I have been accused of."

As the words left his mouth, a number of the Vanguard broke ranks and closed in, slashing and thrusting with their weapons. However, Garen was ready for them, bursting into a flurry of parries and counter strikes, the Might of Demacia became a hurricane of steel. To the soldier's credit, they refused to back down, even in the face of Garen's full skill.

Seeing an opening, Garen stepped forward and struck three times, knocking his opponents off their feet. More soldiers stepped forwards, more cautiously, and began to trade blows with Garen, trying to push him back into a wall of spears behind him. The Sergeant had by now come back to his senses, and was getting groggily to his feet, "General, you have been accused of High Treason! Your resistance here only serves to prove your guilt." He said, motioning towards the stairs where a group of men in robes stood waiting.

At his sign, the men began chanting in unison, almost instantly, Garen felt his muscles seize and lock. _Mages!_ He thought. gathering his will, Garen pushed back, struggling to keep control over his body. As he did, spear slipped through his guard punching through his thigh, shattering his concentration and forcing him to his knees.

Instantly, a dozen swords and spears were pressed in, preventing him from moving. The Sergeant moved in as close as he could, one side of his face red and swollen. Holding out a hand, he revealed the badge that Caitlyn had found, "I was told that this badge identifies members of the cult that tried to kill His Majesty. I didn't want to believe that you of all people would be one of them. Hell, when the Prince told me to arrest you, I almost disobeyed him. But here it is, and there's also the fact that you tried to resist arrest." The Sergeant spat at Garen, "Garen Crownguard, you are a traitor to Demacia, and I will enjoy watching your execution."

Garen's mind was too full of conflicting thoughts to make a sound. The Prince had ordered his arrest? He was being called a traitor? None of it made sence. He didn't even feel the first several kicks that were aimed at him as the soldiers all made their views of the situation known.

As he was beaten unconscious, a single thought finally filled Garen Crownguard's mind: _I've been betrayed._


	3. Chapter 3

Desperate Times

a League of Legends fanfic

Chapter 2: Imprisoned

It was all pain and darkness. Garen could feel nothing else as his captors tried to interogate him. They beat him, they starved him, they viewed him as the worst thing that could ever walk Runeterra; a Traitor.

He had been locked away in this dungeon for what felt like an eternity, though in truth no more than two weeks had passed. In that time, no one had come for him, no on but the jailers. Not his sister Luxxana, not the Price, not even his friend Xin Zhao had come. In truth, Garen was glad; none of them should see him like this, reduced to a beaten, broken man, where once had stood the pride of the city-state.

As Garen lay, slumped against the corner of his small cell, his mind clouded over by pain he had never imagioned possible, he tried to think. He tried to puzzle out the mystery of the Black Rose badge that had damned him to this cell. The Sergeant who had arrested him had said that the badge identified members of a cult, but that was absurd, there were no cults in Damacia, were there?

Garen let out a small curse. The Dauntless Vanguard, and later his jailers, had been pretty rough on him, beating him into submition and possibly breaking a few bones. The pain had still not lessened, if anything, it had only grown. Coupled with the numbing shock of being accused of treason, it was almost too much for him to bear.

Still, he was the Might of Demacia, damnit! He would not be beaten by some invisible hand that had framed him with treason and who knew what else. He would find a way to clear his name, surely Jarvan would lissen to him if he apealed to him directly. Surely Lux could find something to clear his name. Yes, he would clear his name, then he would make whoever had caused this mess pay.

As he lay there, gathering his convictions, a voice echoed from the hallway that caused him to stop dead. "I have orders to move the traitor to a different cell," A female voice said, "something about keeping him fully secure or something."

Garen's blood was replaced by ice water, _it can't be... not her..._

"why wasn't I informed of this before hand?" asked the guard stationed outside Garen's cell.

"How the hell should I know? since when do they tell us grunts anything? Anyway, let's get him moving."

_Please let it be my imagionation..._

"Hold on, who was it that told you to move him? I'm gonna need to talk to someone about this later."

"umm..."

_ Don't let it be her..._

"What? just tell me. Come to think of it, who are you? I've never seen you around before."

"God I hate smart guards," there was a small rasp of metal and a sudden gasp. "They always make a simple plan go bloody" A moment later the sound of a body slumping down the wall reached Garen's ears, followed by a scraping noise that could only be a body being dragged across the floor.

There was a solid thunk as a key was inserted into the cell door and turned. The door swung open, spilling torchlight into the black cell. Squinting his eyes against the sudden intrusion, Garen turned his head painfully to veiw the person standing in the doorway.

She wore the uniform of a Demacian guard, but instead of a longsword sheathed at her hip, there were a pair of wickedly shaped shortswords. There were small spots of blood scattered across her chest and face, presumably from the guard who had just died. And her face, at once the most beautiful and most horrifying sight that Garen had ever seen. it was hard and strong with beautiful angles and beautiful but extremly cold green eyes, and a long scar across her left eye.

"Well, well. You look like shit." said Katarina Du Couteau, "well let's get you out of here, I have some questions for you."


End file.
